August 12, 2017

     What does a guy like me do when he retires? Fair question. Almost my whole life has been dedicated to Christian ministry. I attended Northwest College to get a degree with a major in Biblical Literature and a minor in Missions--I also took extra courses to qualify for a Christian Education certification.
     So, it makes sense to go into the ministry. Well, that and the fact that I've sensed the calling since I was 12 and God has been faithful. I didn't shine so brightly at times, but our God is always glorious. His grace, mercy, patience, and never ending love trumps our self-imposed momentary afflictions.
     Starting in 1974, I pastored in three US churches, and spent 10 years in foreign missions. Our assignment was to teach at Italian Bible Institute and I did that and much more. At the end of 40 years of full-time ministry, I felt the leading of the Lord to retire and move to the desert, which we did. We've been here for 3 years so far.
     Now, as an old retired guy, I follow gifts, talents, and the leading of the Lord God Almighty. Here's how it breaks down:

• I write, as I have been doing for about the past 19 years. Only now I get to do it as much (or as little) as I want. I vote for much time spent in writing. At this post, I have written and seen published a total of 10 fiction and non-fiction books. Way more to follow.
• I teach the Bible every Tuesday evening at the Pasco Adult & Teen Challenge center. The young men are hungry for the Word and make each study a delight.
• I preach on a rotation at the local Union Gospel Mission and I preach on a rotation on Sunday evenings at Faith Assembly. I also do emergency preaching when local churches need help.
• I am an Elder for the NWMN, which means I'm kind of a chaplain, providing aid and assistance for ministers and their families. This helps answer the question: "Who ministers to the ministers?"
• I enjoy less stress and responsibility. At the drop of a hat I get to leave everything for a few days and do family and personal things. I am physically healthy--as of the last physical exam--and I strive to keep spiritually well, too.

     God willing, I will keep walking through whatever reasonable "door" that might open. I will be free to say "yes" and I will be free to say "no." In all ways, however, I will seek to live so that God is glorified.

I'm back!

     Say, it's May 18, 2017, and I haven't posted on this blog in a long time. Q.  What's the top subject on my mind at this moment? A. The state of our nation. I have enough white whiskers on my beard to have seen a lot of things in the politics of the USA. There have always been sides (Left and Right) and there have always been differences of opinion. I have not, however, seen as much bitterness, violence, rancor, and intolerance as I have since the election of 2016.
     Something has gone wrong. If you see the news, read the newspapers, connect with serious internet news sites, or listen to the radio, you are well aware of what's happening. For the first time in my memory, a lawfully elected president is having to deal with rampaging opposition. Every move he makes meets with snide criticism. Agitators are doing their work in an apparent effort to destroy the current presidency.
     I must confess to have been disappointed--to say the least--with the past president. His politics did not come near to being like mine. His apparent goals did not line up with my hopes for the future of America. He seemed to support the very opposite of what I think are high priority concerns. In short, I think he fell way short of being the kind of leader that looked out for the best interests of this nation.
     But I prayed for him! I prayed that God would give him wisdom to make good decisions. I prayed that he would open his heart even wider to the God he implied he worshiped. I prayed for peace and for victory over our enemies. I prayed because the Bible tells me to pray for those in authority. I did not riot or call him names. I did not destroy other people's property or block traffic. I prayed.
      And now, I still pray. I pray for President Trump and his administration. I pray he will have God-given wisdom to make good decisions. I pray that he will enact policies that will be good for America and for the God-fearing people who still live here. I pray because he needs it, and I pray because it's one of the few things I can do for him.
     I'm not asking people to "like" this, or to "post" it somewhere else. I'm just asking any true believers who happened to read this entry to please pray. Prayer is powerful. It is the brightest act we can perform. The future of our great nation depends on prayer. God bless you, and God bless the United States of America.

Catching Up

I will be brief. Wow!  Wrapping up 40 years of full-time ministry, "retiring," and moving to a fresh place with new opportunities is hard work. Now I have more time for writing and am committed to a couple of volunteer ministry situations. All that to say that I am writing again and a lot, just finishing a western (book 2 of the Lorne Wolfe series), and have surrendered the 73,000+ word manuscript for editing. Now, this is a blog and I apologize for not giving it more serious attention. I mean to be much more frequent, starting now. My blogs in general will tend to be brief, and will deal with writing related matters, faith in history, books I like, lessons learned, and anything else that catches my fancy. I might even resort to dignified venting, should I feel the urge. This is all for now. I just wanted to do this fresh start at blogging. See you soon.

Still Remembering

Memorial Day, 2013

I can’t remember his name. I barely remember his friendly, sunburned face. Like a lot of us stationed at Di An, South Vietnam in 1968,  he went to bed after a long day’s work and, no doubt, fell asleep. Sometime in the dark hours of early morning, the Viet Cong launched a barrage of mortars, landing them right on top of us.

Having just returned from a month at Lai Khe, which received rocket and mortar fire many times every day and night I was there, I awoke at the first sound and dashed toward our bunker. By then, it was routine. My friends and I made it to safety that night—but he didn’t.

A couple of days after the attack, I recall a few of us attending a brief memorial service led by a chaplain we barely knew. An empty pair of combat boots and his empty helmet set upon his M-16 provoked a serious sense of loss. We left the meeting in silence and never talked about it with each other again.

It is likely his family and friends will remember him on Memorial Day. They probably still lament a life cut far too short, and what he might have become. For some reason, I remember him, too. He was one of the 58,150 others whose lives were lost during that far away war. He was one who lived where I lived.

The count goes on. A vast number of men and women, serving their country in uniform, have lost their lives in many conflicts. They still do. Since the beginning of this nation, their sacrifices have helped to preserve and protect this country, and they still do!

Like I said, I can’t remember his name and I barely remember his face. But this Memorial Day, for some reason, I remember him. I will remember others, as well. So will many of you.

God bless and comfort those who remember, and God bless the United States of America. 

www.quietstreambooks.com

IT WAS A FIRST...

February 27, 201

Living in progressive times like these makes it possible to still experience “firsts,” even as the years pile up.  Take, for example, my first adventure with the GPS function of my new Droid phone yesterday. Being in a remote neighborhood of Portland and needing to get to a certain hospital to make a pastoral visit, I asked a couple of questions of my relatives about directions. One of them set up the phone’s GPS/map function and said all I had to do was follow instructions.

Fine. I can do that. I can follow instructions. So I boarded my Rave4, slid the phone in an available slot, and took off. A pleasant feminine voice gave patient directions. I listened and obeyed. It seemed that all went better than imagined.

Now, I know Portland pretty well. It took me but a few right and left turns to figure out where I was in relation to the rest of the city. In fact, I soon knew exactly where to go and didn’t really need the GPS (I’ll call her, “Gipsy”). When I got to a fork in the road, the sign said I should veer to the right, but Gipsy urged me to the left. Then she started to spit out rapid-fire commands. I was to turn right on Blah-blah SE, then left on Blah-blah, followed by an immediate order to turn right on East Blah-blah Avenue.

Three quick commands referring to streets with which I was not entirely familiar turned out to be more than I could process. I couldn’t read the street signs fast enough and made a wrong turn. Gipsy began a whole new line of orders. “Right at Blah-blah Drive, right at Blah-blah Street NE and make a U-turn.” Brother, was she ever bossy. When I somehow arrived at the correct place, a No U-Turn sign forced me to keep going forward. Gipsy, nevertheless, continued a series of quick orders to turn either left or right. I sensed her vocal chords tightening just a bit—or was it me?

I suddenly found myself in a part of Portland I had seen before. In fact, that time I got lost without the benefit of Gipsy. She’s still talked to me, but I didn’t listen anymore. I got to a freeway on-ramp and gunned my car in the right direction.

Gipsy spoke a little slower now—almost as if she felt tired. She told me to proceed three miles before turning onto a particular exit. Then she said no more. For three miles of rollicking Portland freeway driving I forged ahead in blissful silence. At the exit she gave clear orders I didn’t need to hear, and I told her so.

After the visit, I returned to my relatives home with a sense of serenity. I forbade Gipsy to speak, and got back to the our relatives’ house in almost half the time it took me to get from there to the hospital.

Moral:  A good map works for me better than that chatty electronic Gipsy. Still, I believe I’ll try it again. Maybe, like in almost everything else techno, practice will make perfect.

Richard M. Cary

www.quietstreambooks.com

Lesson From a Wanapum Canoe

     For a period of about 40 years, I drove past Wanapum Dam, on the big bend of the Columbia River, hardly noticing that massive structure. Then, about two months ago I was in the area doing field research for the latest book for children I am writing. Not only do I believe in “book research,” but I think it’s a good idea to be on site.

After ranging though acres of sage brush, stones, and all sorts of native plants and bugs, I decided to drive up to the Dam and see if it contained an interpretative center or something of interest. Turns out they have one of the finest Native American/Early Settler displays a tourist could hope to see.

One part of the displays sticks in my memory. It’s a hand-carved, dugout canoe, made from a whole log. The craft stretches to about 18-20 feet. Its makers had carved the shape to perfection. In that one canoe, humans and cargo could shoot rapids and sail along swift currents, both upstream and down. According to the pictures on the museum’s walls, such perfection of workmanship allowed for its Wanapum owner to stand up and paddle the craft atop the smooth water of deep pools. I am still impressed!

I took pictures—it is permitted—and stood for a while in thought. Who carved that canoe? How did they do it? What process taught the Wanapums to do such a fine and careful job with a wooden log?

The answers allude me. I’ll be looking for books on the subject and may learn more than I know now. But I do know this much. That canoe, in its finished form, happened one chip at a time. That’s right—one chip at a time! It wouldn’t surprise me if there were times when the canoe makers got weary of their work. Still, they just kept chipping away at it.

“How many books have you written,” someone asked me a couple of weeks ago.

“Eight,” I said. “Four have been published and the others are waiting in line”.

“Wow. I’ve thought about writing a book,” he said. “It just seems like a daunting task. How do you do it?”

“I just keep chipping away at it, one word at a time.”

Do you long to do something significant but don’t know how to get it done? Well, just get started. Write the first words, sew the first stitches, play the first notes, turn the first spade. Then stay with it, learn more about it, apply your new knowledge, and just keep chipping away at it. Your work won’t likely find a place in a future museum, but you will have the personal satisfaction of fulfilling your own dream and getting it done.

Richard M. Cary

www.quietstreambooks.com